


Barty's Birthday

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU- Barty Jr. escapes, Barty Crouch Jr Appreciation 2k20, Barty Jr.'s Birthday, Barty and Voldemort really DO love each other, By Your Touch Alone, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Inspired by Fanfiction, Inspired by the fanfiction "By Your Touch Alone" by Rabenschabel and Local_Doom_Void, M/M, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Seriously go read that fanfic, Slash, Total Control, collaring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Unauthorized continuation from chapter 12 of “By Your Touch Alone,” a Bartymort fanfic by Rabenschnabel and Local_Doom_Void.What exactly did Voldemort purchase for Barty at Rittic Alley?This is meant to be an homage to "By Your Touch Alone," basically a fanfiction of a fanfiction. Please note that I am not a part of the writing team for this wonderful work and am in no way affiliated with the authors, so I have no idea if this is what they had in mind. It's basically a fanfiction of a fanfic that has helped me through stressful times as a travel nurse (no longer doing) and a grad student (ongoing). Also note that you will probably not understand this story unless you have read "By Your Touch Alone."
Relationships: Bartemius Crouch Jr./Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 17
Kudos: 17





	Barty's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rabenschnabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabenschnabel/gifts), [local_doom_void](https://archiveofourown.org/users/local_doom_void/gifts).
  * Inspired by [By Your Touch Alone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185791) by [local_doom_void](https://archiveofourown.org/users/local_doom_void/pseuds/local_doom_void), [Rabenschnabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabenschnabel/pseuds/Rabenschnabel). 



> Unauthorized continuation from chapter 12 of “By Your Touch Alone,” a Bartymort fanfic by Rabenschnabel and Local_Doom_Void. This is meant to be an homage to that fic, basically a fanfiction of a fanfiction. Please note that I am not a part of the writing team for this wonderful work and am in no way affiliated with the authors. Therefore, I have no idea whether or not this is what the authors had in mind when they had Voldemort purchase a mysterious object for Barty. This is just inspired by a fanfiction that I’m incredibly grateful for, because it helped get me through some very difficult times when I was working as a travel nurse (no longer doing) and throughout grad school (ongoing). 
> 
> Now that I’m doing telehealth and am off for Thanksgiving for the first time since becoming a nurse seven and a half years ago, I wanted to express my gratitude by contributing to this woefully underappreciated ship. The first two (bolded) paragraphs are copied verbatim from the last lines from chapter 12 of “By Your Touch Alone.” Everything else came from my imagination.

**Once they were back in the gentle sunshine of the Alley, Barty wondered where to go next. "I'd like to get some new books on Arithmancy if that's okay. I need a book explicitly about crafting defensive spells because I'm looking to improve on the domed shield."**

**He stopped walking and grinned. "And after that, I was thinking ice cream!"**

Ah, yes, the boy had promised to treat him to ice cream. Voldemort gave an aloof nod, tamping down the strange giddiness that threatened to well up in him. Barty’s response to his approval was like the rising of a second sun, all beaming, rosy-cheeked, blushing face framed by a halo of golden waves. Voldemort proceeded to the bookshop while Barty followed respectfully, remaining half a step behind his master. 

As he walked, Voldemort found himself wishing to keep his servant in sight. It would not do to look back, however. He was in command. To glance backwards would show nervousness, uncertainty, both of which were unacceptable to Lord Voldemort. Yet he wanted Barty in his sight at all times. With that decided, he reached back and firmly gripped his servant’s wrist. He ignored Barty’s quickly-stifled squeak of surprise and yanked the boy forward until the two of them were walking side-by-side. 

Barty gasped as he felt his master’s vice-like grip on his left wrist. That alone, the way Lord Voldemort’s long fingers seemed to crush his bones, was enough for Barty to feel the unwelcome stirrings of lust in his groin. But then, something in his Mark seemed to react to having Master’s hand so close, even when it wasn’t being touched. Barty felt the Dark Mark on his forearm burn, and he hissed in pain. He blushed as this caused his arousal to grow, but he couldn’t think about this for very long. The Dark Lord was tugging him forward by the arm. His master wanted Barty to walk beside him. Of course, Barty mentally berated himself. Lord Voldemort would want Barty to keep up and stay close in case his services were required, not lag behind like an indolent child. Barty could have _Crucio_ -ed himself from shame about this oversight. And now his master had to correct his behavior! 

Ears burning, Barty ducked his head, peering at Lord Voldemort’s handsome figure out of the corner of his eye to ensure that he matched his master’s pace. He willed away the beginnings of his lust by forcing himself to remember the icy shower that had been so effective yesterday. 

Once Barty’s pace and position were to his liking, Voldemort slowly let go of his servant’s arm. A glance at the boy showed Barty walking beside Lord Voldemort, cheeks red and staring at the ground. This wouldn’t do at all. A brief, subtle crook of Voldemort’s index finger magically straightened Barty’s spine and lifted the boy’s chin. Barty turned towards his master in surprise. Voldemort merely glanced sideways at Barty’s improved posture and gave a faint nod of acknowledgment and approval while continuing briskly to the book shop. 

Barty found his pace speeding up to match Lord Voldemort’s of its own accord- a result of whatever spell his master cast to correct his posture, he realized. Barty smiled blissfully as he felt his master’s magic work through his entire body- lifting his legs, straightening his back, and controlling the very swing of his arms. It was impossible to displease his Lord when his master had him under such close control. Barty felt a wave of peace settle in his belly. He noticed that the last of his lust had dissipated and wondered if this was due to his own willpower or the effect of his master’s spell. Was it some variant of the Imperius Curse- one that controlled his body like a puppet without giving him a voice in his head? How interesting! Despite the trauma he felt from surviving his father’s Imperius for so many years, Barty quite liked the idea of being under Lord Voldemort’s total control. Barty felt a wellspring of affection and reverence for His Lordship rise up within him. His master no doubt knew that Barty’s body and mind could not tolerate any more of the Imperius until he grew even stronger, but the Dark Lord still found a way to keep Barty under total control. 

Barty, Lord Voldemort had found, was a wonderful conduit for his magic. Voldemort could feel his magic stretching out and making a home in Barty’s body, moving the limbs the way Voldemort desired. As they moved closer to the bookshop, Voldemort slightly decreased the hold his magic had on Barty’s body- enough to maintain control over the boy’s posture but giving enough freedom to allow Barty to willingly walk ahead and open the door for him. 

Barty felt an indescribable sense of loss as some of Lord Voldemort’s magic left his body. But he didn’t have time to focus on that as they were nearing the bookshop. He briskly stepped ahead to hold the door open for Lord Voldemort. Voldemort strode briskly past him, giving an aloof nod. He caught, just on the edge of hearing, his master murmur “Good boy” and felt his world light up. His chest swelled with Lord Voldemort’s approval. He had pleased his master. 

Once the Dark Lord passed through the door and Barty had gently closed it behind them, another crook of Lord Voldemort’s index finger caused Lord Voldemort’s magic to exit Barty’s body. Barty felt a cold void in his chest as his master’s magic deserted him. He hurried to catch up to Lord Voldemort so he could continue to walk beside him. He would not make the mistake of lagging behind his master again. 

Lord Voldemort gave a brief smile as Barty willingly, eagerly hurried to catch up to him. Voldemort briefly rested his hand on the small of Barty’s back and gently pushed him towards the Arithmancy section, giving the boy permission to occupy himself in that section while Voldemort himself explored the rarer volumes of Dark magic. 

Barty felt himself being dismissed, and a part of him felt empty to be pushed away from his master. On the other hand, books. He strode eagerly towards the Arithmancy section, poring over the titles for a book about crafting defensive spells. Barty flipped through the pages of a promising-looking book called _Magicae Defensionem Obscurius_ and soon lost himself in an explanation of customizing defensive shields. It looked like he could apply the _Vis Ager_ and the _Crasso_ Charms to strengthen the domed shield without the side effect of shrinking the size of the shield, which had previously blocked his progress. 

Applying two modifiers at once to a spell like that could sometimes overwhelm the wand’s core, even if the spellcaster had the power. However, the book made mention of long-forgotten alterations that could be made to one’s wand to increase the power of the spell’s cast without diminishing the wand’s ability to match with the wizard. How fascinating! Barty had never considered the possibility of altering one’s wand to improve spell-crafting. Following this new interest, Barty wandered over to the (very few) books about wandlore on the other side of the store and began poring over the ancient tomes, his heart beating in excitement. 

It seemed like no time at all before he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He whirled around dropping the book he had been reading, along with the Arithmancy book he had been holding onto, and drawing his wand. He found himself facing his master, his wand poking into the man’s chest. 

Lord Voldemort Summoned the book before it could hit the floor and raised an eyebrow as a blushing Barty quickly Banished his wand back into the holster he wore on his left forearm. “I-I’m sorry, My Lord,” Barty stammered, bowing his head. 

Barty kept his head bowed while Lord Voldemort flipped through the book that the boy had been so engrossed in. The tome described Runes crafted specifically for wandlore which could be used to increase the power channeled by the wand. Useful but dangerous if one didn’t know what one was doing. Still, Barty had proven himself a powerful, competent wizard. He would give his permission for Barty to study wandlore under close supervision. Speaking of close supervision… 

A crook of his finger caused Barty’s spine to straighten, bringing him up out of his bow. Voldemort handed over the book on wandlore, the book of Arithmancy that Barty had been perusing earlier, and three books on Dark magic for Barty to carry. “I give you leave to study wandlore to aid in spellcrafting, provided you only do it under my watch,” Voldemort told the boy. Not that he would be letting Barty out of his sight very often anyway. “Is that understood?” 

“Yes, My Lord,” Barty responded, eyes shining with eagerness. He looked like he was barely restraining himself from jumping up and down in excitement. Fortunately, the boy got a hold of himself (although Voldemort had been taking an unexpected degree of pleasure in casting spells to control Barty’s movements) and merely stepped back respectfully, gave another quick bow, and said “Thank you, My Lord.” 

Voldemort gave a brief nod of acknowledgment before leading the way to the check-out desk. “I shall pay for the books,” Voldemort said. “You may consider this… A birthday present.” 

Since when did the Dark Lord do birthday presents? Barty felt himself becoming overwhelmed with gratitude until all he could do was gaze up adoringly at his Lord, a sappy smile on his face. Fortunately, Lord Voldemort took control of Barty’s body again, and Barty found himself proceeding towards the check-out desk, his master at his side. Barty gently laid the books on the check-out desk while Lord Voldemort paid. Once the transaction was settled, Barty picked up the books, shrunk them, and carried them in his cloak, then exited the bookshop at his master’s side. 

Once they were outside in the bright sunlight of Rittic Alley, Barty gushed with gratitude while Voldemort smiled in amusement. “Thank you so much, My Lord!” Barty enthused, hands clasped to keep them from clapping from excitement. “The wandcrafting will add so much power to my spells. You won’t regret this- nobody would be able to touch you once I perfect my defensive magic. I-” He broke off before he accidentally said something that they would not want overheard by passers-by. “Please let me treat you to some ice cream,” Barty pleaded. “It’s the least I can do.” Barty quite liked the idea of earning his own money and using it to treat his master. 

“That will do,” Voldemort accepted, an indulgent smile on his face. “Come.” He headed towards the ice cream shop, a beaming Barty at his side. 

After a convivial time sharing ice cream, Barty leaving a generous tip, Lord Voldemort led Barty to the tailor’s. He was tempted to have Barty wait outside, not willing to let Rosalie look at his servant again. On the other hand, he was loath to let Barty out of his sight. Once he picked up the specialty item he ordered, that would no longer be a problem, of course. 

Barty held the door of the tailor’s shop open for him, and, rather than sweeping past as usual, he grabbed the boy’s arm and held Barty to his side. He wanted Barty close to him at all times while they were in Rosalie’s presence. From now on, there would be no more allowing Barty to go off alone with Rosalie to be measured; Lord Voldemort would accompany him. 

Rosalie’s creations were perfectly-made as ever, allowing Voldemort’s robes to retain their usual classic, tailored appearance while dressing in a more modern style. Each of Voldemort’s half-dozen robes had Slytherin’s ancient family crest embroidered on the chest. Barty’s three formal servant’s robes carried the same crest, befitting one who served a Noble house. However, while Voldemort’s robes tended towards blacks and dark reds, the colors on Barty’s robes were softer- a pale blue, a light green, and faded gold. 

Voldemort smiled in satisfaction and settled up with the tailor as an awestruck Barty carefully shrunk and packed away their purchases in his cloak. He then tugged on Barty’s arm again, pulling the boy out of the shop. 

Barty was expecting the two of them to head for home. However, instead of walking towards Rittic Alley’s travelers’ point, Lord Voldemort led him towards a small shop that his master had never taken him to before. The shop seemed completely barren, only four bare walls and a pristine counter. There was no hint of what the shop was meant to sell. His master took his arm again and pulled him inside. Instantly, an elderly man appeared behind the counter, holding a small velvet box, about the size of a shirt box. 

Barty couldn’t explain it, but he felt something stirring within him as he gazed upon the package. His heart pounded, and he longed to reach out and hold the box, open it, explore… whatever it was. Perhaps the object contained a bit of Master’s magic or his blood. That would explain why it seemed to call out to him in the same way as his Master did… He shook his head, trying to clear it. He was being stupid. Whatever that was, it belonged to his master, and it was none of his business what was inside the package. 

Barty expected Master to hand him the package to carry, as he had with the rest of their purchases. Instead, Lord Voldemort tucked the box into his own cloak and pulled Barty out of the shop and towards the travelers’ point. 

Once they were home, Lord Voldemort gave Barty a gentle push on the small of his back and instructed him to put away all of their new robes and join him in the library. Barty hurried upstairs and carefully hung up both sets of robes in the wardrobes. His reverent fingers caressed his master’s robes which declared him Lord of the House of Slytherin and his own formal servant robes, smoothing out any wrinkles or imperfections. 

Lord Voldemort was waiting for him in the library, relaxing on an armchair with that velvet box resting on his lap. Barty knelt before his master, bowed down until he was on all fours, and kissed the hems of the man’s robes, the tops of his feet, each individual toe. 

When each of Lord Voldemort’s feet were given the respectful greeting they deserved, Barty felt his master’s hand grip his hair and pull his head up. Barty whimpered in pleasure at being yanked about by his hair. A part of him wanted to bring his head down so that Master’s iron grip on his hair would be more painful, but he quickly dismissed the idea as disobedient. Instead, he relaxed his body and allowed himself to be pulled until he was kneeling between Lord Voldemort’s spread legs, hands resting on his master’s robes. This brought him closer to the mysterious package resting on Lord Voldemort’s left thigh, and a part of him yearned to reach out and explore the package. But Barty was a good boy, and he knew better than to pry into his master’s business. 

Barty felt the Dark Lord’s hand smooth down his hair, soothing the pain from being yanked up so forcefully. Lord Voldemort stroked Barty’s cheek and brought his hand down until it rested on the side of Barty’s neck. Barty’s heart raced as his master’s other hand was brought up to rest on the other side of his neck. He gasped as Lord Voldemort’s long fingers stretched around his neck, encircling his throat like a collar. Then, his master’s grip tightened, cutting off Barty’s air supply. Barty felt a strange mixture of arousal and fear. He loved being held in his master’s firm grip, had long fantasized about Lord Voldemort grabbing him by the throat. Yet, what brought this on? Had he done something to warrant the Dark Lord’s displeasure and punishment? Was his master upset at having to use magic to correct his behavior in Rittic Alley? He wondered if he should apologize for that, but Lord Voldemort’s grip on his throat made him unable to breathe, let alone speak. He dared to look up into his master’s red eyes, trying to gauge the man’s mood, and found only curiosity and clinical interest, no anger or disappointment. 

Voldemort squeezed the boy’s throat experimentally. Like a good boy, Barty didn’t try to push his master’s hands away or defend himself, even as Voldemort squeezed more firmly. Barty merely gazed up at him, wide blue eyes beginning to water, a strangely blissful smile on his face. Voldemort slowly let go, allowing the boy to take a deep, relieved breath. “Thank you, master,” Barty breathed, though whether the boy was thanking Lord Voldemort for choking him or for letting go, Voldemort couldn’t say. 

Barty slumped forward once he was released, taking deep breaths. Voldemort allowed Barty a few seconds to collect himself, then, with a crook of his finger, forced Barty to kneel up again and bow his head with his hands folded as if in prayer. It felt… fitting somehow, for the boy to be in this position, after Barty’s years of reverence and adoration, to say nothing of the words of worship Voldemort had overheard when he had eavesdropped on Barty touching himself in the bathroom. The boy looked like a golden-haired angel kneeling before his almighty god. 

Barty felt his master’s magic course through him once again, correcting his posture until Barty was kneeling in the correct position with his hands folded neatly in his lap. Barty found himself unable to move a muscle, even if he wanted to. He focused on committing Master’s preferred stance to memory so that he could fall into it at any moment without his master having to correct him. Not that he didn’t enjoy this feeling of Lord Voldemort’s magic coursing through him, controlling his every move. 

He heard his master opening the mysterious package, but he was unable to move his head and see the object it contained. It was none of his business, then. Above him, Barty heard the Dark Lord hiss a spell in Parseltongue and suddenly felt cold metal closing around his neck. The metal ring tightened a bit, as about to choke him, but suddenly, mercifully, it loosened slightly at another hissed command from his master. The Dark Lord’s finger under his chin made him look up, and he gazed into his master’s red eyes. 

His master smiled down at him. Barty could think of nothing else besides that smile. He had pleased his master. Master had looked down at his unworthy servant and seen something worth smiling about. Perhaps it was merely the perfect obedience that had come from Master’s magic coursing through his body that had so pleased Lord Voldemort. But it didn’t matter what had pleased Master, only that he was pleased, right? Barty was merely a conduit for his master’s will, a tool to be used as Lord Voldemort saw fit. 

Another crook of his master’s finger, and Lord Voldemort’s magic was released from his body, allowing Barty to move about freely, but he daren’t take that opportunity without his master’s permission. Barty held his master’s intense gaze for a moment that stretched on for eternity before the Dark Lord removed his hand from underneath Barty’s chin and gave a brief, barely-perceptible nod. 

Barty cautiously unfolded his hands and brought them up to feel the cold metal ring wrapped securely around his throat. The necklace- no, collar, he realized (and hadn’t that thought set his heart pounding)- had a ring dangling from the front. Now that he realized that he was wearing a collar, Barty wondered if his master would perhaps like to attach a leash to the ring, and the thought of being treated like Lord Voldemort’s pet made his dick harden. Right above the ring, Barty felt a gemstone of some sort. 

“It becomes you,” Master said, conjuring a mirror, which Barty took with shaking hands. Barty saw his own face, wide-eyed and flushed. Then, around his neck, a silver collar with a single ruby in front. The ruby was the exact same shade of red as his master’s eyes. Barty shivered in excitement. How often had he been jealous of the silver arm that Lord Voldemort had gifted to Wormy? And now here Barty was with a silver collar all his own, marking him as Lord Voldemort’s property. 

“You are to wear your collar at all times. As long as you wear this collar, no other witch or wizard will be able to perform Legilimency on you, but I shall be able to read your thoughts and control your movements at all times, even when you are sleeping, separated from me, or otherwise unable to open your mind to me.” What a relief to know that he would have no secrets from his master and that his inability to perform Occlumency since his stay in Azkaban would no longer be a problem! And being under Lord Voldemort’s control 24/7 was an honor Barty had never dared dream of!

“Thank you, Master,” Barty breathed, overcome with emotion. Barty made to bow his head and kiss his master’s feet, but he found himself being lifted from the ground and Summoned to his master’s lap. Lord Voldemort yanked him forward by the ring hanging from Barty’s collar and pressed their lips together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Happy Thanksgiving!


End file.
